


it didn't really matter

by rarmaster



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, i'd tag this as ''major character death'' but no one STAYS dead so. like., mainly the worst ending tho, spoilers for both worst and best endings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-21
Updated: 2015-10-21
Packaged: 2018-04-27 11:53:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5047501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rarmaster/pseuds/rarmaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frisk has a bad dream.</p><p>But first, they have a bad time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it didn't really matter

**Author's Note:**

> this was mainly inspired by this tweet [ https://twitter.com/butnobodycame/status/656510072755998720 ] but a list of other things I drew inspiration from is here [ http://rarmaster.tumblr.com/post/131644180930/ ] 
> 
> ((probably check these out after you've finished the fic though???))

Sans recognized the shift of the world around him well enough to know there’d been a Reset—but this was the first time a Reset had happened after…

Images of his death swam in his mind. This kid really wanted to come kill him twice? What sort of monster were they? Maybe it was payback for all the times he’d killed them. Well. Since they’d done him the favor of reviving him, he’d be sure to make their life hell for a little longer this time around. Maybe they’d finally quit.

“You’re really kind of a freak, aren’t you?” he called, as they approached them.

There was no knife in their hands this time. Strange. Sans widened his eyes a little—the closest a skeleton could get to raising their eyebrows—and looked them up and down. They were crying.

“I’m- I’m s-s- _sorry_!” they blubbered. “I- I… _I’m—!_ ”

Sans curled his hands into fists inside the pockets of his jacket. Did he believe them? Maybe. But it was too late for apologies. It was _waayyyy_ too late. Still…

“I- I messed up b-b-bad! I messed up r- _really bad!_ ” The kid kept blubbering, taking a few stumbling steps towards Sans. Sans nearly stepped back on reflex. They didn’t have that knife of theirs, no, but they could easily punch him with the intent to hurt and he wouldn’t survive it. “ _P-_ please, Sans! _I’m sorry!_ ”

Sans sighed. Welp. Maybe they meant it. Maybe they didn’t. It didn’t really matter. It wasn’t going to change what he was going to do.

“Me too, buddy,” he said, forcing a bit of laughter. He pulled his hands out of his pockets and spread his arms. “C’mere, _pal._ Maybe we can still make things right.”

The kid ran at him, threw their arms around him. Sans took a deep breath, trying not to feel their warm little body as it pressed into him. _Sorry, kid,_ he thought. _But I’m not taking any chances._

 

~ ♥ ~ 

 

_If you’re really my friend, you won’t come back._

~ ♥ ~

 

 

“SANS! DID YOU WASTE THE WHOLE NIGHT NAPPING _AGAIN_?”

Sans jolted awake. His chest stung with a phantom pain, and his eyes burned as if with tears. Fuzzy images passed through his mind—the kid’s broken body as he threw them across the room, the arc of a knife through the air, then the horror in the kid’s face as his magic pierced their skin, after he’d basically said he forgave them—but the realization of where he was made him forget about it. He was in his bed. In his room. That was Papyrus, banging on the door…

_Papyrus._

His bones ached too much to do any running, but Sans wasted no time getting to the door. He threw it open so quickly he nearly knocked Papyrus over.

“ _SANS!_ ” Papyrus shouted, stomping his foot a couple times after he regained his balance. “BE MORE CAREF—oh…” He stopped, as Sans wrapped him into a hug. After a second, he patted Sans awkwardly on the head. “What’s this for?”

“Aw, nothin’, bro,” Sans replied as he pulled away. It was a good thing he didn’t cry very easily, or else he’d be bawlin’ like a baby right now. “I just… get a little BONELY sometimes.” The pun wasn’t one of his best, and barely even fit the context, but it was worth it to see Papyrus’s expression go from surprised (and, perhaps a little worried) to sheer exasperation. Sans winked and pointed a pair of finger guns at him.

“NOW ISN’T THE TIME FOR JOKES, SANS!” Papyrus said. “YOU HAVE TO GET TO WORK!”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it.”  Sans adjusted his hoodie so it wasn’t falling off his bones. “See ya, bro. Maybe catch you for lunch?” He raised his hand in a wave, and then rather than bother walking all the way to his outpost, he took a shortcut.

For once in a long time, Sans actually sat down at his station, as if he planned to _do_ his job. The truth was, he just really didn’t feel up to going to that door to the Ruins and shooting bad jokes at a stranger on the other side right now. All he felt was exhausted. Besides, he knew where they were in the timeline. She wouldn’t be there. For the best, he told himself. It wasn’t like he could really face her when he’d not only broken his promise to her, but also fully intended to do so again if he had to, _this_ time before things got bad.

And, anyway, he could use a little time to himself.

Sans had learned to appreciate these few hours of silence after reach big Reset, where it was just him and this spot and no obligation for a little bit. It gave him some time to sort out his thoughts. Gave him some time to get used to pretending he didn’t remember anything, just like everyone else. Gave him time to get used to pretending like he didn’t know the best possible outcome of this story had been ripped away from all of them.

Right now, it gave him time to clear the images of blood and violence from his mind. Gave him time to appreciate being at the start, instead of standing between the kid and the end of the worst possible outcome, trying to keep them from _getting_ to the end. He had to shake his head to clear it from the echoes of the kid’s screams—

The kid…

_Frisk._

Sans had seen this thing from start to finish plenty of times, now. He’d even been to the Surface. Twice. He knew how much of a sweetheart Frisk really was. So what had been different that last time around? Why had they decided to… It couldn’t just be because they were _curious._ Not Frisk. Never Frisk.

It took a lot to make Sans cry, and boy was he glad he didn’t break down in front of Papyrus earlier. But, now that he was alone, and now that he was _really_ thinking about all that had happened, it was like he couldn’t stop.

That other timeline? It was like hell itself. Everyone was dead. His brother. Undyne. Every monster in between, probably including that lady behind the door who actually liked his jokes. And, the trail of dust left in Frisk’s wake would’ve been more than enough to make _anyone_ sick.

But that didn’t mean Sans had enjoyed fighting them.

Frisk was one of his friends. Seeing them like _that—_ with that grin and those empty eyes, that knife gleaming in their fist, blood on their fingers, dust on their shoes… Enough to make anyone sick.

Sans pressed his palms into his eyes, not sure how to stop the tears that were pouring out of him. It was all alright, now. That was the thing about Resets. It was all alright. But the weight of everything that had happened was still heavy in his bones.

He only stopped crying when he heard the crunch of tiny feet in the snow.

Sans looked up, very surprised to see Frisk standing there. He hastily wiped his eyes.

“Uh, hey, kiddo!” he said, forgetting for a moment that this was supposed to be their first meeting, that he was supposed to play along—and, geeze, what were they doing here so soon? He almost asked them that, but out of habit, he caught himself. Sure, they had to know he knew all there was to know about Resets by now, but… “It’s, uh, just, bad allergies?” he tried, wiping at his eyes again. He reached as subtly as he could to the space under the lookout post, fingers searching for the whoopee cushion that should be here. Might as well keep pretending things were like normal.

But, in the few seconds he took his eyes off of Frisk, they stumbled around to join him on the other side of the post. “You ain’t supposed to be back here, kid,” Sans laughed. “We’ve got it all wrong this time. You wanna head back and do it right?”

Frisk shook their head. Sans could see the tears brimming in their eyes now. There was a clutch in his chest, and then Frisk was throwing themselves into his arms. He caught them with a small gasp of surprise, which turned into a sigh as their fingers closed around his jacket.

“I-I’m so sorry,” Frisk whispered. “I really _really_ mean it. I- I messed up.”

They knew. They knew he knew.

Sans wanted to hug them back, but he hesitated. He could still see the gleam of that knife.

“I thought I told you not to come back,” he said, stiffly, in the tone that had made Frisk jump out of their skin more than once. Maybe he meant this as another stupid joke. Maybe he didn’t. Sans didn’t think it really mattered. The words sounded the same either way.

Frisk shuddered against him, but they didn’t let go. “I… I know…” they sobbed. Their voice was so small. “But I- I couldn’t leave everyone like that. I _had_ to come back. I had to fix things.”

Sans let out the breath he’d been holding, then wrapped his arms around Frisk, and held them tightly. He couldn’t keep pretending he was mad at them. Them Resetting meant he had Papyrus back, and wouldn’t be left to pick up the scattered pieces of the Underground nearly on his own. Maybe they’d make it to the Surface again, this time around. And, maybe they’d stay there.

“Thanks…” Sans whispered. There was so much more he wanted to say, but he decided to try and convey it through this hug instead of putting it into words. Seemed easier, that way. He always liked things easy.

And, from the way Frisk hugged him back, they seemed to understand.

 

 

~ ♥ ~

 

 

“S’pose you don’t need to hear my spiel, do you?” Sans asked. He stood in the center of the hall, hands shoved in his pockets, orange rays of twilight seeping through the large windows. He couldn’t stand here without getting chills down his spine, and from the looks of it, neither could Frisk.

It’d been a long time since the two of them had both stood in this hall, but Sans swore he could still hear the roar of his blasters and feel the power and desperation and _fear_ in his bones. And, by the ill-masked horror in Frisk’s eyes, he’d wager they could still see his death. Still, they smiled, and even if it was not as bright as it would’ve been anywhere else, it was a kind smile. The one Sans liked seeing on their face.

“No, not really.” Frisk shook their head, and laughed a little, nervously. “But, if it’d make you feel better…” They gestured for him to go ahead.

Sans shrugged, then chuckled in a nervous tone much like Frisk’s. “Not really feeling it this time around,” he told them, with a wide grin, if not as wide as always. It was a good thing his face came like this. “You didn’t hurt anyone, did you?” he asked, even though he knew they knew he already knew.

Frisk shook their head again, and this time, they were really smiling.

“Not a soul.”

Sans grinned back. This one felt much more natural.

“Then you did good, kid. Great job.”

Here’s where he should head out of here, and let Frisk continue to Asgore. _But,_ Frisk’s smile drooped after a moment, and they kicked their feet, and looked like they really _really_ wanted to say something. Sans nodded his chin at them, telling them to go for it.

“You… you forgive me, don’t you?” they asked, very softly. “I didn’t really mean to. I just… I lost control of myself…?” They only sounded a little certain of the explanation. Was that _really_ what had happened? Well, it didn’t really matter.

There was no reason to doubt his friend _now_.

“’Course I do, kid,” Sans said, and then, after a second or two of mulling it over, he continued around the lump in his throat: “I… I had to do it, y’know? Things wouldn’t get any better if you didn’t…” He swallowed hard. “Y’know.” It killed him to say, but there was a pit in his gut he was sure wouldn’t go away until he did.

Frisk nodded. Sans felt like he could breathe again.

“I know,” Frisk said. “You were just doing what you had to.”

Their tiny hands flexed a few times, and then, to break that dreadful silence and stillness between them, Sans stepped forward and clapped them on the shoulder.

“You did great, kid,” he said, smiling down at them. “Keep up like this, and we’ll all be on the Surface in no time. Catch ya later.” He squeezed their shoulder, and headed for the door they’d come in from.

 

 

~ ♥ ~ 

 

_“Why’d the skeleton cry? Because his brother had turned to DUST.”_

~ ♥ ~

This was the longest they’d been on the Surface and stayed there. Sans was staring to get used to it—dangerous, because it always seemed the moment he did was the moment it was all snatched away from them. He kept meaning to talk to Frisk about it. Maybe talk them out of Resetting again, but he was always afraid to approach them, in case he ended up saying the wrong thing and making it worse, which is why the two of them didn’t have deep conversations… at all.

Was it better that way? Eh, it didn’t really matter—alright, _maybe_ it did.

Tonight was one of the nights where Sans had even more trouble sleeping than normal. Going to bed each night with the fear he’d wake up back in his old house Underground didn’t make for easy sleeping. And, on top of that, there were the nightmares. Memories from other timelines got foggier and foggier the longer he spent in this new timeline, but that didn’t keep them out of his dreams.

And, he’d dreamed about fighting Frisk again.

The singing of magic in his bones and the sound of Frisk’s screaming got duller with each dream. But, some of Frisk’s taunts stayed as sharp as that knife, like they were burned into his mind, and Sans feared he’d never forget them. He thanked whatever deity he could think of every day that no one else remembered Frisk when they’d been that cruel.

Sans was sitting in the front room, now, elbow on the arm of the couch, chin in his hand, feeling himself dozing off and knowing he should probably just go back to his bed at this point. That’s about when he heard the sound of small feet against the carpet. He forced his eyes to open.

There was Frisk—blanket wrapped around their shoulders like some sort of cape—coming trundling towards him. Their eyes were lidded with drowsiness, but the way they moved was almost in a panic.

“Hey, kiddo, what’s up?” Sans asked, trying to hold back a yawn.

“Bad dream.” Frisk plopped face first into the couch, and after a few moments of lying there like it was hopeless to do anything else, wriggled themselves until they were all the way on the couch and well tangled up in that blanket. “Got scared.”

“Well, it’s just a dream,” Sans told them. He forced himself to straighten, and pulled his hand away from face, so it’d be harder to fall back asleep at a bad moment.

“It was bad,” Frisk said. They huddled into their blanket. “I- I was… you… _we_ were…”

Sans shuddered all over, then took a deep breath.

He understood, now. Especially why they’d come to him, instead of crawling into bed with Toriel.

“It’s still just a dream, isn’t it?” Sans said, with a shrug. That was the only thing that got him through these nights. “Maybe it happened, once. But _this_ is our reality, now. Everything’s alright, here. You did everything right.”

Frisk shivered, and then rather than settle themselves down against the other arm of the couch, crawled over to him, dragging the blanket with them. Sans just smiled, and held out his hand to pull them over. Eventually they were all settled, curled up with their head on his lap and blanket tight around them. They were trembling.

“I- I don’t want it to happen again…” they whispered.

“Trust me, kid. I won’t let it get that far if it does.”

“Promise?”

“Don’t think you want me to make that promise, kid.”

Frisk didn’t respond. Good for them.

“Maybe just… don’t Reset again, huh?” Sans said.

“Didn’t mean to that time. It just… happened. And then, and then I wasn’t…” There was a hitch in their words, and they hiccupped like they were about to cry. Sans just ran his hand over their back, hoping to soothe them. He wasn’t too good at this. “It was scary. Y-you were scary…” Their voice got painfully quiet. “… _I_ was scary.”

Sans nodded. That was all he really could do.

“I know, kid.”

They gripped his leg tightly.

“Sans… I- I’m sorry.”

Sans just nodded again, then patted Frisk on the head.

“I know. But everything’s okay now, I mean it. Try ‘n go back to sleep.” Then, to cheer Frisk up, he added: “You wouldn’t wanna wear yourself down to the BONE.”

Frisk took a shuddering breath which turned into unsteady laughter. Then they shifted how their head rest against his leg. Sans didn’t see how it could be comfortable for them—he was all bones—but he didn’t dare suggest they move. They seemed to have settled, anyway.

“You… you sleep too…” they whispered.

Sans laughed a little to himself.

“You got it, kid.”

He closed his eyes and leaned back against the couch.

 

 

~ ♥ ~

 

 

Sans woke the next morning to Frisk tugging him off the couch and over to the table for breakfast. They were chattering excitedly, the brightness back in their eyes. There was something in the way they squeezed his hand that reminded him they knew, _they knew,_ but…

But everything was alright now.

And the past?

It really didn’t matter.


End file.
